


Cut Loose

by Toastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: British Men of Letters, F/M, Hunting, Jody Mills Being A Badass, London, Long-Distance Relationship, Mick Davies Lives, Micky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 10:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toastiel/pseuds/Toastiel
Summary: Mick Davies hates London.





	Cut Loose

Mick hated London. He knew it was an entirely un-English thing to say, but the truth was he’d always held the overly crowdes, noisy, and emotionally vacant city in ill regard. Even as a child, he’d preferred the quiet afforded him at Kendrick’s. It was removed from the hustle and bustle, filled with books and knowledge and the acceptance he’d so desperately craved as a youth, and it was surrounded by dense forests and fresh air. 

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he would gladly admit that he hated London even more now. 

Maybe he’d been stateside for too long, and maybe being so far removed had made him realize what a true cesspool of humanity London really was. Or, he briefly supposed, perhaps it was just because now he was missing the surrogate family he’d found with the American hunters. He’d never had a family before, not that he could remember at any rate; as long as he could remember, it had just been him, his schooling, and later on, his work. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t woken up the past few mornings with pangs of loneliness and something he could only describe as homesickness. He’s begun to call Jody several times, just to check in and, though he’d never admit it, just to hear her voice. Part of him was beginning to think it had all been a cruel dream, or an attempt at brainwashing. He knew the Men of Letters wouldn’t bat an eye at putting someone through such tortures. He never did call her, afraid as he was to lose his new family. Time zones were different and he didn’t want to wake a sleeping dragon, or so he told himself. 

Really, he didn’t want to come off as being insecure or needy. He’d been told it was something of a turnoff and he couldn’t afford to let his own lack of self confidence ruin one of the few good things he’d had in his lifetime. 

He’d been in England four days now, and not once had he spoken to any of his American friends. He tried not to take it personally. They were all busy, either with everyday life or with trying to figure out some way of dealing with Jack and bring Mary back from the alternate reality she found herself lost in. He figured they were also trying to give him space, as misguided an effort at that was. 

He didn’t need space. Not from them, at least. Things were what they were and no amount of space or deliberation on his part was going to change that. It simply was. He really saw no sense in giving the situation any more thought that it deserved, and in his mind, that wasn’t much. There was nothing to process, and nothing to waste energy getting upset over.

He was just being stripped of his membership and losing his job. It wasn’t that bad, really. 

A year ago, he’d have fought tooth and nail to have the elders reconsider their decision, to give him a second chance to do better, to be better. Now, it was almost a relief. 

Rather, it would have been were the process of being ‘let go’ from an institution such as the Men of Letters not so incredibly convoluted and droll. He’d been through five meetings with the board since he’d stepped off the plane, not to mention the two debriefing sessions, clearance removals, and generally boring conversations meant to ready him for ‘civilian’ life. Not that he’d ever really be a civilian. As soon as this was all over, he was heading back to the states. He had resources and knowledge, and now he would learn the practical skills of hunting he would need in order to be of any use to the Winchester brothers and the rest of the American hunters. 

Despite the monotonous torture of it all, he felt rather privileged. Most members of the Men of Letters didn’t live long enough to be let go. He was truly shocked they hadn’t just ordered Ketch to put a bullet between his eyes and be done with it. He knew too much, he was certain, and had the roles been reverse, he wasn’t sure letting a man like him walk free was really a risk worth taking. He wasn’t going to mention it aloud though. Best not to give anyone any ideas. 

“Mr. Davies, such a pleasure to see you this morning.” Elizabeth, a short, petite blonde in her late twenties rattled off as he approached the front desk of the London headquarters. She was nice enough, but he found her overly chipper tone annoying and her makeup overdone. He offered her a slight smile as he handed over his ID card. 

“I’m here for a meeting.” He wasn’t much in the mood for pleasantries and small talk. 

“Of course. Please, take a seat. I’ll let them know you’ve arrived.” She seemed upset by his brusque attitude and was happy to return it with a clearly forced smile. 

He’d just taken his seat when his mobile vibrated silently in his breast pocket. He pulled his mobile from his pocket, worry filling him as he saw Jody’s number flashing across the screen. He answered, concern staining his voice the same dreary grey as the sky just outside the office building windows. 

“Jody?”

“Hey. I know it’s early, but I kinda need your help. You got a minute?” She sounded calm enough, though he could tell there was an edge to her voice that was usually reserved for dealing with monsters, demons, and Claire. 

“For you, always. How can I help?” 

“I’ve got a problem. Pretty sure I’ve figured out what it is, but I can’t figure out how to kill it.”

“Alright.” He replied, apprehensive. “What’s the problem?”

“Ever heard of a Nukekubi?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar, yeah.”

“Good. How’s your Japanese?”

“Rusty. How’s yours?”

“Non-existent.”

“Rusty it is then. What’ve you got?”

“It's a recording. I found it in some of Bobby’s old stuff.” He heard shuffling, then static before the gruff voice of the man he assumed was Bobby Singer filled the line. 

“ヌケクビを殺すためには、頭が狩りをしている間に体を取り除かなければなりません。頭は体に戻らず、すぐに死ぬでしょう。別の選択肢は、白い毛皮の犬の肝臓を呪うことに苦しむ人に与えることです。”

“Did you get all of that?”

“Yes. It’s an unusual dialect, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”

“Thank you, Mick.”

“My pleasure,” He smiled warmly, pointedly ignoring the chilly look Elizabeth was giving him. “And, love?”

“Yeah?”

“Go to bed.”

“Alright. Goodnight, sweetie.”

“Sweet dreams, love.” Mick hung up, shoving his mobile back into his pocket as the doors opened on the far end of the room and his name was called out. 

The call from Jody was the highlight of his day, it turned out, and he trudged back to his hotel that evening. It was raining, not that he was surprised. It was always raining in London. He was soaked and cold, but he was too tired to care. He was almost wishing they had offed him. At least he wouldn’t have had to go through all of this. 

It was late by the time he got back to his room. He stripped off his sopping wet clothes and climbed into the shower, relishing the warmth of the water against his chilled skin. Clean and warm, wrapped in a fluffy robe and flannel pajamas, Mick ordered tea and set about working on the translation he’d promised Jody that morning. It was well past eleven by the time he finished, and he had to stifle a yawn as he waited for Jody to answer his call.

“Hey, Mick.”

“Hello, love. How was work?”

“Same as it always is. How’s London?”

“Dreadful.” He changed the subject, not really wanting to discuss how he was feeling at the moment. “I’ve got what you asked for. You’re going to want to write this down.”

“‘Kay. Hang on.” He could hear shuffling on the other end, likely Jody shifting the phone to rest between her shoulder and her ear ass she reached for a pen and paper. “Okay, go.” 

“In order to kill the nukekubi, you must locate it’s sleeping body and relocate it. This will keep the head from returning, and eventually the head will die. Alternatively, you can cure a nukekubi by feeding it the liver of a white dog.”

“Awesome.” She sounded less than enthused about the ordeal. “I’ll see if I can find the body. I’m not killing any dogs.”

“I’d expect nothing less of you, love.” He stifled another yawn. 

“You sound tired. What are they putting you through over there?”

“Oh, nothing I can’t handle, love. Don’t worry about me. I should be back home before the week’s over.”

“Good. I forgot how big my bed was. Not really used to sleeping by myself anymore.”

“I’m sure we can fix that in short order,” Mick couldn’t help but tease, knowing it would make the woman blush on the other end of the line. 

“I’m gonna hold you to it.” She muttered, “Now, go to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mick grinned. He loved when she tried to cover up her embarrassment by getting bossy. “Good luck, darling.”

“Goodnight, Mick.”

He hung up, tossing his phone onto the pillow beside him as he reached for his cup of tea. He couldn’t wait to get home. Even if the tea was decidedly less up to snuff, everything else was perfect. 

And it was certainly better than London.


End file.
